. . .

Ander tripped over other hatchlings twice before he made it to the ambrosia. Cakes, pies, shredded meat, rolls, steaks. It looked like a southern woman had a potluck and invited the entire world. A couple of hatchlings were already at the table silently devouring the food, and Ander felt a line of jealous rage run through him. It was *almost* enough to outweigh his hunger. Almost. Ander flopped down on the bench, feeling fat though he couldn’t be more than 120 pounds. Of course what made him feel really fat was the way he tore into the food.

Ander tried to be polite, he really did. In the end all he managed of politeness was to tuck a large napkin into the neck of his shirt. But two seconds later he was in that food elbow deep and was shoveling it into his mouth indiscriminately. After 20 of the most frenzied minutes of his life Ander sat back winded. So much food. He had easily eaten several platters of meat, two cakes, and three pies. There wasn’t enough space inside him for all that he had eaten. Yet, it felt like he had had a light snack after starving in the wilderness for several days.

Ander looked around to see a full ten other hatchlings at the table staring at him in shock. He supposed that was reasonable. He had just put away, was it half of his bodyweight? And he wanted more. He wanted so much more. Ander decided to ignore the stares as a new platter of meat was placed in the middle of the table right in front of him. The table was a long affair, so Ander rightly felt that this platter should belong entirely to him. Either way, it was something like Tri-tip steak and he wasn’t sharing. Ander lost another twenty minutes. At some point during that he managed to snag another cake and two pies. There was even a tray of donuts. Unfortunately the greedy hatchlings sitting around him grabbed most of them, leaving him with only five.

Finally, after his third round Ander felt full. He also felt awake and energized. He jumped out of his seat and stood to look at himself. His pants were too short. And his shirt barely covered his midriff. His shirt was tight, but not around his stomach which was bewilderingly flat, but around his pecs and shoulders. Pulling his shirt up he realized he had abs. He had never been fat, but he had never had abs before either. What was in that food? If someone took that to earth they could make a fortune!

Ander could see the headlines already, OBESITY EPIDEMIC CURED!!!! NEW EXERCISE FORMULA!!!!!! EAT TO LOSE!!!!! Then again, America might go from conquering Micky D’s to conquering the world if that happened. So maybe not. Either way it wouldn’t be him taking it to them. Ander started to make his way back to the previous room, grabbing a haunch of meat on the way. Before he could get there however, another door he hadn’t noticed opened. In walked another giant, this one in gaudy finery. He had a distinct look from the other noble, with mediterranean skin and deep set eyes, whereas the High Lord was more fair of complexion. He smiled when he saw the hatchlings, but this smile was distinctly different.

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“Ahh, these will do. Men, take them to the staging grounds.” Two dozen men with the same mediterranean complexion and deep set eyes marched into the room wearing heavy armor and carrying spears. One by one, they grabbed Hatchlings from the table and set them walking out the door. Suddenly, High Lord Torden burst into the room, his face purple with rage.

“What is the meaning of this, Mattheos?” He yelled, getting within inches of the other giant. For some reason, Ander felt proud that High Lord Torden had a couple inches on the other man.

“My name is Sir Mattheos, High Lord Torden, and I am here collecting the rest of the soldiers you owe General Makis.” Sir Mattheos smiled at the enraged High Lord.

“These aren’t soldiers, Sir Matttheos. These are hatchlings, fresh from the spawning room.” High Lord Torden said. “You can have them once they are done with their training.” Sir Mattheos stood silent for a moment, looking contemplatively at High Lord Torden.

“Very well, High Lord Torden. I cannot gainsay an order from one of your, privileged, rank. However, General Makis will be quite saddened to hear that you are not able to contribute to the war effort in the agreed upon way. I fear that would mean you would be summoned to the battlefield.” Sir Mattheos gave a patronizing smile. “Is that not the terms of your king’s agreement?” A chorus of gasps came from the doorway to the spawn room and Ander turned to see the five women huddled together in the doorway looking distraught. Ander’s heart fell when he saw High Lord Torden’s shoulders slump.

“Very well Sir Mattheos. Take them. They will do you little good, but you can have them regardless.” He looked around before finally laying eyes on Ander, who had finished his haunch of meat without realizing it. “Give me five hours to get them properly equipped.”

“High Lord Torden,” Sir Mattheos’ smile widened, “I am afraid that we can set out no later than two hours from now. If you can get them equipped by then, then all is well.” High Lord Torden glared balefully at Sir Mattheos before signaling to a guard and speaking quietly. Sir Mattheos also signaled to his men, and Ander was grabbed roughly and pushed toward the door. He walked, the bone remains of his haunch falling from his greasy hands. He went to wipe his hands on the napkin, but it was absolutely disgusting. Something inside him urged him to lick it for the extra nutrition, but he stomped that impulse into the ground. He carefully removed it from the collar of his shirt and wiped his hands on the back before dropping it too on the floor. He noticed with some dismay that grease had soaked through to his shirt in several places, and that frosting had made it to his pants. They were brand new as well.